


sexy when you're choking (up)

by nebulia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Future Fic, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, get rekt oikawa, soft sadist sugawara koushi, suga has a big old dumb crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulia/pseuds/nebulia
Summary: If you're going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.





	sexy when you're choking (up)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the spicy gang at twitter but specifically sophie asking for oisuga headcanons and me shouting "SUGA WRECKS THAT BOY SORRY NOT SORRY" back at them. and also thanks to everyone for talking me through this and cheering me on! 
> 
> thanks to sophie and caps for taking quick glances at this!
> 
> Kinks have been somewhat negotiated offscreen, but how much is pretty nebulous. There is one instance where Suga uses the word "slut" during the scene. Please let me know if I should add any tags!
> 
> Title from "I Love it When You Cry" by Steve Aoki and Moxie.

Koushi’s schedule doesn’t allow him to go to many play parties or munches, so it’s been over three months since he’s managed to show up. This one’s technically a vanilla munch, but at someplace between a bar and a club, late in the evening, the dance floor dark and a DJ playing something with a heavy, sultry beat. Some of the dancing is getting a little heavy--that chick is definitely close to choking her partner, whose skirt is pulled up indecently high, riding her thigh--but no demos or anything. Low pressure, low risk. 

Koushi’s not dancing, but he’s still enjoying himself, catching up with some of his friends in the scene, gorging himself on pork belly and wings. He doesn’t really have any plans to pick up--he’s been talking to one of the subs he’s scened with before, and they’re sort of contemplating something so she can try out a new toy, but it’s not set in stone. He’s here more to see friends, maybe meet some new people, get updates on house parties and other smaller events, which sometimes tend to line up with his days off. He works too many damn weekends.

A hand lands on his shoulder: “Suga,” Akaashi says, almost cheerfully. He’s dressed up, eyeliner and leather pants, Docs. “Good to see you. It’s been forever.” It was unexpected but pleasant to find Akaashi in the scene. Bokuto, too, but he doesn’t come to as many events. He’s even busier than Koushi, and he’s shy about this sort of thing. Tends to stick to vanilla munches. 

“Yeah, my shifts at work are wild,” Koushi says, swinging on his bar seat to talk to Akaashi. “It’s good to see you too.” 

“Kei-kun,” Kaoru says. “Hey!”

Akaashi smiles. He looks a little dangerous. “Kaoru-chan, good to see you.” 

“No Kou-chan today?” Romi says over Kaoru’s shoulder. 

“He’s in Australia,” Akaashi says. “He sends his love, of course.” 

“Pull up a chair, Akaashi,” Koushi says. “Let’s catch up.” 

Koushi gets a couple drinks; Romi gets about six. Akaashi has water. Koushi says hi to a few more people, orders some gyoza. It’s a good night, even if Romi gets up to dance halfway through and gets snared by that same chick who was choking her partner earlier that evening. She winks at Koushi, who salutes her with his drink and resigns himself to going home alone. Still, a night out with friends isn’t a waste. 

“Oh,” Akaashi says. He’s looking towards the entryway. “ _Oh_.” 

“Oh?” Kaoru says. “ _Oh, damn_. He’s fine as fuck.” 

“One way to put it,” Akaashi says wryly.

Koushi turns around. 

He’s not just fine--he’s _Oikawa Tooru_ , walking into the bar and handing over his coat to the coat check girl. He’s in tight light-wash jeans, luminescent in the blacklight of the bar, and an artfully ripped t-shirt. 

Koushi’s not clueless. Oikawa plays pro volleyball in the V.Premier League, is a backup setter for the national team. Koushi’s not sure why he didn’t travel to Australia with the national team, but whatever the reason, he’s here, not there. 

“You know him?” Kaoru says. 

Koushi and Akaashi exchange a look. “We ran in the same circles in high school and college,” Koushi says, finally. “You know, sports. It was a small world.” 

“Suga knew him better than I did,” Akaashi says, and Koushi kicks his shin. Traitor. 

Oikawa’s looking around. He doesn’t look too out of place. He says hello to a couple people who look like they know him, waves at someone on the dance floor. He doesn’t look out of place, but he also doesn’t have the ever-present air of confidence Koushi remembers him carrying with him at all times. Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe Oikawa’s not that kind of person. 

“You’ve never seen him at anything before, though?” Koushi asks Akaashi.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “But it’s not like I’m omnipotent. It’s a big city, and a big scene.”

“Did you fuck him then, in high school?” Kaoru says. 

“Only metaphorically,” Koushi says. “We beat his team and went to nationals.” He elbows Kaoru. “You don’t even know if he likes getting fucked.” 

Kaoru rolls her eyes. 

Oikawa stops at one of the snack tables, and then makes his way to the dance floor, almost hesitantly. He’s looking around, almost curious, like he’s trying to catalogue all the details of the bar. 

Then he sees Koushi and Akaashi. 

Akaashi waves, but Oikawa ignores it; he’s locked eyes with Koushi across the room. He looks like a deer in headlights, eyes enormous and a little nervous.

Koushi smiles. He offers a wave of his own.

Oikawa swallows, the movement obvious even from ten meters away. He waves, quickly, and turns back to the dance floor. 

Koushi takes a sip of his drink. He’s not going to go over and say hi, or anything--they haven’t seen each other since college, and haven’t really spoken since high school. It ended on weird, and probably bitter terms for Oikawa--Koushi’s not going to push. 

At the same time, Oikawa’s _something_. If he’s not interested, he’s at least curious, and Koushi resolves to stick around until he leaves and see if anything happens. 

\--

He actually almost forgets about Oikawa--another friend shows up, and Romi drags over the choke chick before the choke chick drags Romi back to her place, and Akaashi gets a phone call from Bokuto and leaves, face almost comedically soft under his makeup. Koushi’s chatting idly with the bartender over a ginger ale when Oikawa says, “Sugawara, right?” 

Up close he looks better than he did in the entryway; glistening from dancing, tan skin almost glowing even in the low light. He’s got a little eyeliner on, mascara making his lashes look even thicker and inkier than they are, hair mussed. Someone has left a hickey on his collarbone. 

“Oikawa-san,” Koushi says. “It’s really good to see you.” He means it, too. 

Oikawa smirks. It’s wobbly. “I’m surprised to see you here.” He steps in closer. If they were both standing, he’d probably have fifteen centimeters on Koushi. With Koushi sitting on the barstool, the height difference is even more dramatic.

Koushi lifts a shoulder, looking up at him, unintimidated. “It takes all kinds, right?” he says. “I’ve followed your career. You’ve done pretty well, huh?” 

Oikawa’s face tightens. Koushi smiles, bland. 

“I’m proud,” Oikawa says. “But not content. I’m still getting better. What about you? Still playing?”

“I have a rec team,” Koushi says. “We won our local league last year. Got a whole crate of sake.”

Oikawa sneers. Koushi ignores it. “I play with a lot of guys who love the sport,” he adds, sincere. “It’s really fun, you know? I love it. It’s a good balance from work, too, though I don’t always make it to practices or games.” 

“What do you do?” Oikawa says. 

“ER nurse.” Koushi grins. “I love that, too. My apartment’s a closet but I’m very happy here in Tokyo. I miss Miyagi sometimes but I visit often. How about yourself?”

“I miss the mountains,” Oikawa says, and then blinks, like he didn’t mean to say it. “But Tokyo is fine.”

“I miss them too,” Koushi says. “It’s hard to come here, where people don’t really get it, right?” Oikawa nods, and Koushi reaches out to touch his forearm. “It’s good to see you. I’m happy to catch up with someone else from Miyagi. Have you seen the new subway line yet?” 

“You’re a dom, right?” Oikawa says. “Cut the shit.” 

Koushi squeezes his arm, half-warning, half-reassurance. “What shit?”

“Are you here to pick up, or not?”

Koushi’s hand tightens. “I’m here to catch up with friends. I work weird shifts, so I don’t get to come to events often. If I go home with someone, that’s a bonus.”

Oikawa opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “Do you want to go home with me?” he finally demands. 

Koushi can’t stop the way his smile goes predatory. “I wouldn’t say no to that,” he says. “You’ve done this before, right?” 

Oikawa scoffs. 

“That’s not a yes,” Koushi says, and digs his nails into Oikawa’s skin. 

“Yes!” Oikawa yelps. “Does it make a damn difference?” 

“It can,” Koushi says. “But I think you’d be a brat either way, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off,” Oikawa snarls. He’s suddenly all aggression, letting the oppression of his close stance bleed out of him. Koushi ignores it. 

“Why don’t you call an Uber while I take care of my tab,” Koushi says, letting go of him. “I’ll meet you out front. We can talk more there.” He turns back to the bar, a dismissal, and hands the bartender his card.

\--

Oikawa shoulders his way into Koushi’s space while he’s unlocking the door to his apartment. “Hurry up,” he mutters, and then presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to the base of Koushi’s neck. 

Koushi lifts his heel and steps on Oikawa’s instep. Oikawa hisses, and the door swings open. It’s easy to surprise Oikawa then, to grab him by the shirt and use his weight to push the door closed as Koushi shoves him up against it. 

“You aren’t good at behaving, are you,” he says. 

Oikawa snorts. “You’re not very good at putting me in my place, I guess.” He toes off his shoes. Koushi leaves his own boots on. It’s his apartment, and he has plans. 

“I don’t think that’s the problem here,” Koushi says. “I haven’t tried very hard.” 

Oikawa straightens up and Koushi looks up at him. Oikawa’s looking down at him the way Koushi watched him look down at Daichi, at Kageyama, but this isn’t volleyball anymore. They’re on the same side here. Not that it seems like Oikawa knows that. Even if he’s the one who wanted Koushi to take him home. 

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Koushi says. 

Oikawa’s mouth falls open before he snaps it shut, wetting his lips. He’s nervous. 

“You’re looming,” Koushi says. “But I’ve played volleyball since junior high, and I’m only a little taller than average height, and I had a low block. Do you really expect me to be afraid of you? Guys like to loom over me all the time.” He pushes Oikawa’s chest, carefully. Oikawa’s clearly not inexperienced at this, but there’s something strangely vulnerable about him. 

Oikawa swallows. Smirks. Opens his mouth to speak, and Koushi pushes harder. Oikawa’s bigger than him, fifteen centimeters taller now and ten kilos heavier, probably, but he’s off-balance. He stumbles back without much force on Koushi’s part, watching him with wide eyes. Fuck, his eyelashes are long. 

“Stop posturing,” Koushi says, not angry. “You don’t need to do that with me. It’s cute, but it’s unnecessary. I won’t hold it against you.” 

Oikawa takes another step back. His calves hit Koushi’s bed, and he slumps down on it, legs spread open. “Sugawara-san,” he says, and then his face twists. “Or--”

“Suga’s fine,” Koushi says. “You like cute nicknames, right? I’m not picky about titles.” 

They haven’t negotiated enough for this but Oikawa’s shoulders are hunched, face pinched. He needs something. 

“Why did you come to me?” Koushi says, stepping between Oikawa’s legs, and cupping his face, tipping it up so they can make eye contact. “I wasn’t going to push you at all, but you sought me out.”

Oikawa smirks a little again, and Koushi slaps him. A warning, not hard. Oikawa’s head snaps to one side, and when he comes back the smirk is gone. “Don’t lie, Oikawa-san.” 

Oikawa wets his lips again, trying to regain composure when he’d already left it two steps away. He lifts one shoulder, one side of his plush mouth turning up in a crooked smile. “When I saw you, I thought _oh fuck._ But when you saw me you smiled like you were genuinely happy to see me.”

“Should I not have been?” 

Oikawa shrugs again, more expressively. “I wasn’t exactly friendly in high school.” 

“You were an asshole,” Koushi says. “Don’t misunderstand me. My loyalties stay with Karasuno--or not with Karasuno, necessarily, but with the friends I played with.” He doesn’t say Kageyama’s name, but he can see Oikawa’s eyes harden. Koushi rubs a thumb over the pink mark his slap left on Oikawa’s face. “But I kind of liked you anyway.” He smiles. With Oikawa sitting on the bed and Koushi standing in front of him, Oikawa’s head hits him maybe mid-chest. “This is a good angle for you,” he says. 

Oikawa shivers. It’s minute, but Koushi’s touching his face, paying attention. He doesn’t miss it. Koushi leans down and kisses him, gentle. When he pulls away he presses their foreheads together, and Oikawa gasps against his lips, eyes still closed, breathing harder than the kiss warranted. 

He wants to hurt Oikawa until he’s sobbing with it, but ten minutes of discussion about safewords and bondage and dirty talk in the Uber and thoroughly unnerving the driver wasn’t enough for what Koushi really wants to do. So he throws it out to Oikawa. “What do you want?” he says. 

“I thought you were gonna--” 

“Believe me,” Koushi says, stepping in closer. He’s half-hard and getting harder, and he stepped close enough that Oikawa can probably feel the bulge in his jeans. “I’d love to tie you down and hurt you until you were wailing with it.” Oikawa’s breath catches. “There are so many ways I could make you scream,” he says. “Even if it was mid-season and you had a game the next day. I’d try any of them with you, Oikawa-san.” He leans up to press a kiss to Oikawa’s forehead. “But there’s no way I’m going to do any of them to you without sitting down and talking about it, face to face, preferably with some mapo tofu. Not at night, after a munch, when we clearly both showed up with something else on our minds.” 

He pulls away enough to meet Oikawa’s eyes, half-lidded with want. “I have some ideas for tonight,” he says. “But I was opening the floor up for suggestions. It’s not an offer I make often. You should probably take advantage of it.” He kisses Oikawa’s slack mouth again, brief. “So. What do you want?” 

Oikawa swallows. His gaze moves between Koushi’s eyes and his mouth. “Can I--” he starts, and licks his lips again. “Can you. Choke me. With your dick.” 

“That’s a thought,” Koushi says. “You want me to fuck your face?” 

Oikawa nods, and his posture shifts a little, straightening. Some of the cockiness bleeds back into the set of his jaw. “And I want you to hit me again.” He glances up at Koushi, almost challenging. 

Koushi bites back a grin. Posturing again. It really is cute. Does he think Koushi will say no? “How hard, Oikawa-san?” he asks. “Like before? Or do you want a bruise tomorrow?” He touches the spot on Oikawa’s cheek where the meat of his palm hit the hardest. It’s still hot. “Just once? I could hit you a couple times.”

Oikawa’s panting again, eyes glassy. His hips jerk against Koushi’s legs. Standing this close together, he has to tip his head far back to meet Koushi’s eyes. “I h-have practice tomorrow,” he says. 

“So no bruise,” Koushi says, and can’t stop his pout. “Next time, then.”

Oikawa makes a breathy sound that might be an actual whimper. “Maybe…” he says, “My other cheek? A little harder, but no bruise.” 

“All right,” Koushi says. “I can hit you again.” He steps back. “Close your eyes,” he says. “Keep them closed, or I won’t let you suck my dick.” 

Oikawa’s eyes close. His lashes, naturally long, darkened by mascara, fan out across his cheekbones. He’s dazzlingly attractive. His cock is hard; Koushi can see it twitching in Oikawa’s skinny jeans, still tucked uncomfortably against one pant leg. 

Koushi wants to fuck him up. 

Next time, he’ll backhand Oikawa; it’ll leave two little bruises from his knuckles across Oikawa’s cheek, just below his cheekbones, and Koushi will press his thumb into each of them until Oikawa whines, but by morning they’ll have faded into one bigger bruise in the shadow of his cheek. By dinnertime, gravity will have the bruise pooling along his jaw. 

He drops one hand to wrap around the side of Oikawa’s neck, hold him steady, and slaps him hard across the other cheek. The sound rings in Koushi’s small bedroom. It’s hard enough that Koushi’s hand stings. 

Oikawa _moans_ , and Koushi grips his shoulders and pushes him down. “On your knees,” he says hoarsely, pushing with one hand while he undoes his jeans with the other, working his cock out of his boxer-briefs. Oikawa goes easily, melting off the bed onto his knees without Koushi pushing hard. He blinks up at Koushi, dazed, and Koushi grins at him. “The height difference doesn’t matter much down there, does it?” he says. “Open your mouth.” 

He puts his thumb at the corner of Oikawa’s lips and pushes. Oikawa’s mouth opens, curving into a smile. “You’re excited, Suga-chan,” he says. 

Koushi presses his thumb into Oikawa’s mouth, pushing his lips open wider. “ _There’s_ the cute nickname.” He feels the vibration of Oikawa’s chuckle more than he hears it. “I liked hitting you across the face,” he says honestly. “Did you think I was doing it for you?” 

Oikawa’s eyes dilate, and Koushi presses his dick against his lips. Oikawa’s mouth opens wider, easily, and he slides in. 

It’s immediate that Oikawa knows how to suck dick. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, angling so the head of Koushi’s dick hits his soft palate, the way his throat kicks a little when he does, one hand coming up to wrap around what he can’t get in his mouth. 

“Hands down,” Koushi says. “Behind your back.”

Oikawa pulls off. “I should have said,” he says. “I’m not--I’m not good at deep-throating. But I like choking on it but--”

“Put your hands behind your back,” Koushi says, more firmly, and moves on foot between Oikawa’s legs, pressing his toes against Oikawa’s trapped dick. Oikawa’s whole body jerks, and then he goes incredibly still. “My dick’s not big enough for you to need your hands and your mouth. You know what to do if you need to tap out.” 

Oikawa looks up at him, assessing, for a second. Koushi doesn’t know what gears are turning in his head, but he waits for Oikawa to decide, smoothing a stray lock of hair back from his eyes. 

Oikawa squares his jaw, and puts his hands behind his back. 

“Open your mouth.” Oikawa’s full lips part. Koushi forces his thumb in the corner of his mouth again. “Wider.” Oikawa obeys, expression torn between defiant and compliant. “Good boy.” Oikawa’s eyes snap to his, narrowing. Koushi smirks at him. 

And then pushes into Oikawa’s mouth again, curving his hand around the back of Oikawa’s head, controlling how deep he goes. 

Koushi likes volleyball, _loves_ volleyball. But there are endless variables, endless ways it can go wrong. No matter how prepared you are, it’s never going to account for everything the court can throw at a team. There’s something exhilarating and terrifying about that, and it’s wonderful. He’s learned how to think on his feet, and he likes the rush that comes from executing a perfect quick or making a particularly desperate receive. 

Work is the same, or something similar; Koushi loves his job almost as much as he loves volleyball. Doesn’t mind the way things never go as planned or expected. It keeps him on his toes; it’s exciting. There’s never a dull moment. Koushi likes that. 

But he likes being able to come home and control every variable. Likes to know there’s nothing he hasn’t accounted for. Likes to ease his cock halfway into Oikawa’s mouth, controlling exactly how much Oikawa can take. 

He pushes further, and Oikawa chokes around him; a centimeter more and he gags, his eyes never leaving Koushi’s face, his hands still clenched together behind his back. Trusting Koushi. It’s satisfying, not just sexually, to have someone’s trust like this; to have the power to control them and reward them for their trust in him. 

Koushi pulls back as Oikawa gasps for breath and chokes on nothing. He can feel Oikawa’s mouth filling up with saliva around the head of his cock. “Good?” he says, and Oikawa nods, the movement cautious and minute. His breath comes short and sharp through his nose. Koushi can feel each exhale against his lower belly. He watches Oikawa’s hands twist together behind his back. “You like choking?” 

Oikawa blinks up at him. His eyes are blown and his stupidly long eyelashes are already wet, mascara smearing on his cheekbones. He swallows, sliding off Koushi’s dick. “Yeah,” he says. He’s not hoarse yet, but his voice already sounds wrecked. There’s drool running from the corner of his mouth. He leans forward, and Koushi angles his hips back so Oikawa can’t reach him. Oikawa _whines_ , bratty, and Koushi laughs. 

“Suga-chan,” Oikawa says. “I know you want it.”

Koushi fists a hand in Oikawa’s hair and drags his head back, baring Oikawa’s throat, pulling hard enough to make Oikawa whine. “I want it on my terms,” he says. “You take what I give you and nothing else. You like choking. You wanna gag on it? Want me to hold you down until you think you’re going to retch?”

Oikawa’s hips jerk. “Suga-chan, _please_ ,” he says. He licks his lips, even though his mouth is still wet. Behind his back, his knuckles are white. 

“Open your mouth,” Koushi says. 

Oikawa’s jaw falls open, and he closes his eyes. His shoulders slump a little. He leans into Koushi’s hand a little. Koushi smiles. “That’s it,” he says, warm, and feeds Oikawa his cock, steady and slow. Lets Oikawa feel it, lets him curl his tongue around the head before it touches the soft parts of the back of his mouth, and Oikawa chokes. 

Koushi brings his free hand up to smooth through Oikawa’s hair. It’s soft, even with a little product in it. “Good,” he says. “That’s good, Oikawa-san.” He pushes in just a little more, to the back of his throat and Oikawa’s tightens around the head of his dick as he gags again. Oikawa’s mouth is hot and Koushi’s always liked the way the soft palate gives a little. 

Koushi fucks his mouth, with steady thrusts even as his breath picks up. He can feel the way Oikawa’s mouth gets wetter with every thrust, the way the saliva thickens as his cock hits the back of Oikawa’s throat. He can’t quite get all the way into Oikawa’s mouth before Oikawa has to desperately swallow back bile, but when he wraps his index finger and thumb around the base of his cock, it’s exactly the right amount. 

Oikawa’s moaning, broken with every push just the wrong side of too far into his throat, drooling, saliva dripping onto Koushi’s fingers around his cock, strings of it connecting them to his plush lips when Koushi pulls back. Oikawa’s hands are still locked behind his back, trembling, and there’s a wet spot on his thigh, where the tip of his cock is still pressed down one side of his jeans. There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching Oikawa Tooru--tall, handsome, successful since middle school, a pro volleyball player--on his knees for an ER nurse and rec league setter. Sucking his cock so desperately he’s almost sobbing for it. Not that Koushi has ever really felt unsuccessful. He loves his job, his team. But Oikawa’s built his life on being relentlessly in control of his destiny, and right now he’s on the floor giving it up for Koushi. 

“I thought you would keep being a brat, but you’re being so good for me,” Koushi says, meaning it. Oikawa’s wet lashes flutter open. “Do you want me to come in your mouth or on your face?” He strokes his thumb along Oikawa’s damp cheekbone, smearing the tears and smudged eye makeup. “You’ll be eating it either way, though.” He pulls Oikawa off his dick. 

“My face,” Oikawa says, voice well and truly on its way to fucked. “Come on my face, I want to watch--”

“Slut,” Koushi says, as sweetly as he can, and pushes his cock back into Oikawa’s mouth, fucking his throat brutally until Oikawa does retch, once, and then he pulls back and fists himself until he’s coming so hard his knees almost buckle, messy strings across Oikawa’s cheekbones, his lips, his collarbone. 

Oikawa gasps, and Koushi watches as his hips jerk. He nudges his boot against Oikawa’s inner thigh, his light wash jeans thin enough that he can watch Oikawa’s dick twitch. 

“Go ahead,” he says, leaning back against the wall right behind him, for once glad for his claustrophobic apartment. “I wanna see you get yourself off.” 

Oikawa’s hips jerk again, and he grinds down on Koushi’s boot three times before he shivers and comes, noisily, the wet spot on his jeans growing. 

“You’re so loud,” Koushi says, and, on cue, his neighbor bangs on his wall. Oikawa’s pink face gets redder, spreading to his ears and down his neck. He almost smiles, but it’s a shadow of his usual smirk. 

Koushi squats down. “You did good,” he says. “Open your mouth for me.” He slides his thumb along Oikawa’s sharp collarbone, collecting the come there and shoving his thumb into Oikawa's mouth before it can drip off. “Swallow it--that’s it, good boy.” 

Oikawa makes a soft, sweet sound at the praise, and Koushi runs his free hand up and down his side while he feeds him the rest of his come, Oikawa suckling gently on his thumb and fingers almost enough to get him hard again. When he’s finished, he gets a Pocari from the fridge and sits down next to Oikawa, who’s slumped against Koushi’s nightstand, still gasping a little.

“Doing okay?” he says, and Oikawa drinks deeply from the Pocari before he tips his head into Koushi’s neck.

“Do we have to do this?” he whines. 

Koushi frowns. “Well,” he says, “Do you want to scene with me again?” 

Oikawa goes still, face still pressed to Koushi’s neck. 

“Because if you do, then I need to know what worked for you and what didn’t. At least a little bit. If we do anything more I want to negotiate more, but right now I just want to know if everything worked for you. If anything didn’t work.” 

“It worked,” Oikawa says. “It worked really well. You’re scary, Refreshing-kun.”

Koushi laughs. 

“You pushed just enough,” Oikawa says. He pulls away from Koushi’s neck to take another swig of Pocari, and then drops his face back to Koushi’s shoulder, breathing evening out. 

“I pay attention,” Koushi says.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, huffing a laugh. “I guess you do.” He snuggles a little closer.

“Cold?” Koushi says.

“Mm. No. Just cuddle me,” Oikawa demands, and Koushi laughs again and obeys. 

“Finish your drink,” he says. “You need it.” 

Oikawa drinks slowly. While he does, Koushi finds Oikawa’s phone, in his coat pocket. Oikawa opens it for him, and Koushi puts his number in, texting himself.

“There,” he says. “I’ll text you, and if you want to scene again, we can talk it out.” 

Oikawa’s finishing the Pocari. “I have practice tomorrow,” he says. “I should head home. Can I get a towel to wipe off?”

Koushi glances at the clock: it’s just past midnight, late but not too late. Oikawa’s mouth’s a little swollen, lips red, and his cheeks are a little streaky from makeup and the remnants of Koushi’s come. There’s still a damp spot on the inside of his thigh from his orgasm. He smells like sex. 

Koushi reaches up and smoothes out Oikawa’s hair. He looks like he had a wild night at a club, but not necessarily like he got his mouth fucked, unless you look at his jeans. 

“No,” Koushi says, still smoothing out flyaway strands of his hair. “You’ll be fine on the subway.”

Oikawa opens his mouth, and then closes it, blushing. He looks sweetly filthy. “Right,” he says faintly. 

Koushi pulls at a strand of hair. “That’s fine, yeah?” he says, giving him the chance to opt out.

“It’s fine,” Oikawa says. His eyes have dilated. 

“Once you’re home you can do whatever you want,” Koushi says. “I’ll text you tomorrow and we can talk about scening again, okay?” 

“Okay,” Oikawa says, and Koushi pulls him down for a brief, bruising kiss before he pushes him to his shoes at the door. 

“Oikawa-san,” he says, when Oikawa’s just opened the door. When Oikawa turns back, he smiles. “This was fun.”

Oikawa swallows, straightening, and smiles back, somehow both smug and nervous. “Let’s do it again soon, Suga-chan,” he says, and waves as he leaves. 

Koushi flops onto his bed, grinning. “We definitely will,” he says to the empty apartment, and can’t help but laugh. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sort of sometimes on [tumblr](nebulia.tumblr.com) and on [twitter](twitter.com/bokglobulia)!
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated! there may be more to this little universe someday (specifically fisting) ;)


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